Test of Manhood
by Hikaru Mitsukai
Summary: Lucius has a story he doesn't want to tell. But with a sudden appearance at Scorpius' wedding, he remembers things long past. Every man has loved something he had to leave behind... LMxOC SMxRW
1. Part i

Hikaru M: Hi guys, I know it's not InuYasha, but I couldn't help myself :S. This has been in my mind since I was stuffing myself full with fabulous HP fanart from Makani (deviantart, check her out) which started my Lucius obsession. I'm trying out a different style for this one so please forgive me if it's really boring to you. It's supposed to be disjointed (refer to later chapters) because I can't be bothered to write a whole story with a real plot. How poor of me :(

Disclaimer: At no point in time did I make any profit off the writing of this fiction. None of the characters present, as rendered in the Harry Potter series owned by J.K. Rowling, belong to me. I do however, claim ownership of the original characters (no duh lol).

Part i

It had been a day long awaited; the sky was cloudless and pristine as if to be a clear indicator of the future of the young couple to be wed on that day. Most had been skeptical when it had been announced in the Daily Prophet and the gossip that had been generated since was unbearable. Some had even gone as far to put bets on who would turn up to the ceremony, no doubt the most anticipated and decorated wedding for generations to come. After all, how often was it that a Weasley and a Malfoy pledged eternal devotion to one another, two clans that had hated each other for as long as anyone could remember?

"I can't believe that we're actually here for this…we've come a long way." Narcissa sounded quietly beside him. Her tone wasn't the scornful one he had been expecting, but one filled with unspoken gratitude and wonder. Lucius nodded imperceptibly, head straight watching the proceedings with his dark mercury coloured eyes. It wouldn't be long before his son's arrival, and it would hardly be longer before the ceremony was underway. Scorpius didn't want to be wed without his father there.

They alone sat in the notably under populated side of the church waiting for their son's arrival. No other member of the Malfoy family thought it wise to attend; though they lived in the post-Voldemort days they thought it offended their pure-blood sensibilities to watch as the last reproducing heir of such a magnificent and extra-ordinary line wed himself to a piece of Weasley trash. Having met the girl himself, he figured it was an event worth showing up to. His mind on thoughts of the past, he could hardly refuse to be present. Scorpius could not even begin to comprehend how magnanimous an affair like this was.

No sooner had he thought this had the groom come up to him, clearly disturbed by the lack of Malfoys in attendance. His eyes, a soft grey almost brown in colour, rested on his grandparents, elegantly dressed in all the finery that Malfoy money could afford. Lucius' ponytail was as long as ever, luminous no longer with the white blonde hair that crowned his own head but with an ever increasing number of silvery hairs that held a soft gilded sheen to them. Beside him sat Narcissa, her own long lustrous blonde hair unchanged, still clinging to its golden sheen. They were both straight-backed with their heads straight, clearly unaffected by the hearty chatter that abounded on the other side. It was heart wrenching for him to see them sitting alone like that.

"Where's dad? He said that this would the one event he would be early to…he was supposed to be here ages ago. Now I've got Rose's family harping at me every time they see me, asking if I've got cold feet. He knows how important this is to me…he wouldn't dare…"

"Never question your father." Narcissa answered, more harshly than she intended to, "He will be here as he promised. We may have dropped a little in the social rankings but the Malfoy word still stands with honour. Never let it be said, by you or any one else, that a Malfoy's word is not binding."

Lucius turned slightly to look at her. As usual, her expression was flawlessly blank, but he could see beneath it was a tiny sign of ire, either at Scorpius' questioning of her only son, or at her only son's tardiness. He sympathised with her, the years as they dragged on with slow cruelty had not seen fit to be kind to her, putting her in positions that no woman, wife or mother should ever have to be in. Yet her arranged attachment to him had put her through more heartache and deceit than was necessary.

Shaking the thought loose, he turned his attentions to Scorpius. He was an honest looking fellow, no doubt Rose's influence, but still held the polished air of a true Slytherin. He did not wear the customary scornful expression of the Malfoy men before him; it took so many years for someone to break the mould, or stigma rather, laid down by one pure blood fanatic so many generations ago. Lucius came close to doing that once, but instead of being bold like Scorpius he resigned to a pre-determined fate, a prescribed lifestyle and wife. That was a long time ago and those were times that he would rather not think about.

"Draco has been several things in his lifetime, but a disappointment he has never been. There's no need to worry, he will be here."

Scorpius frowned, but understanding the words spoken to him he nodded. He laid his hand on each shoulder and with a slight smile and a curt nod, he was off to placate the Weasley brood and associates. Watching him go, Narcissa laid a hand on Lucius', water gathering slightly in her deeply emotive brown eyes. Instinctively he took her hand and gave it a light squeeze, reassuring her with only his gestures. They had learnt together a long time ago that words were of little use in moments like those.

"If you try hard enough, I'm sure that you'll see a bit of yourself in him."

Lucius only smiled and squeezed her hand tighter. He was on the verge of saying that he would be lucky if he could compare himself to Scorpius when a female voice piped up behind them.

"My Narcissa! After being married to the man for so long, I would've thought you know his personal traits by heart. For one Lucius always had a bit of a surly and unapproachable disposition…"

Both turned to see who it was that had rudely interrupted their private conversation, and upon seeing who it was, Narcissa blanched from the shock that was carefully carved onto her face.

"Andromeda?"

The woman nodded. Behind her stood a tall man who was clearly annoyed to be there, his hair changing colour from a violently purple colour to a sickly green. Looking at him, Lucius was immediately reminded of the werewolf, Remus, though he highly doubted that Remus had ever looked anywhere near as impetuous as this young man. The sleeves of his dress robes were rolled defiantly upwards, revealing the creamy flesh of his arm and his hair was slicked upwards into an odd looking hairstyle. Having never seen it before, he figured it to be muggle in origin.

"Why so surprised to see me? You didn't honestly think I'd miss my great-nephew's wedding did you?"

"Never," Narcissa gasped out, "I just…perhaps you would feel more…comfortable on the Weasley side."

Andromeda smiled sadly at her younger sister and husband while the man behind her snorted indignantly and mumbled something about Narcissa being right. Lucius arched a fine blonde eyebrow at him and the man scowled back, clearly unimpressed.

"Once a Black, always a Black. No need to let all these years of estrangement ruin a perfectly good wedding, is there Cissy?"

Clearly grateful, Narcissa shook her head dumbly, more tears gathering in her eyes as her hair became slightly dishevelled. It would've been a perfect moment had the young man not seen the need to add his two Sickles.

"Oi, why the bloody hell am I here then? Their lot disowned mum before she was even born…she wasn't a Black so neither am I. I've got no reason to be sat over here with them." he said loudly.

Andromeda frowned at him and he scowled back; Narcissa was simply appalled at his words. Lucius, for his part had no reaction. His words, all laced with spite and anger, were true so he felt no need to be outraged by the younger man's rant. He knew though, that deep in Narcissa's heart she had always regretted having to ostracise Andromeda, the sister that she had truly loved, under Bellatrix's duress. It hurt her to know that her beloved sister abandoned her, and indeed the rest of the Black family save for Sirius, for a muggleborn. It was at that point that she came to dislike them, muttering curses for Ted Tonks and his kind in her sleep; it was a wound that still had yet to heal.

"Teddy!" Andromeda whispered harshly, not noticing Narcissa's slight flinch at the name, "This is your _family _and…"

Lucius zoned out of the ensuing argument, his mind bringing back a memory from his Hogwarts years. It was not long after he entered his sixth year and he was making his way to the kitchens when he caught Andromeda, a fellow sixth year Slytherin, in a rather compromising position with one Ted Tonks, then a seventh year Gryffindor. They had been kissing it seemed; whatever they were doing was of little importance to him. She was, at one point, betrothed to him – arranged by their parents naturally- but it was broken off in Narcissa's favour as they thought the two a better match.

"My, my, my, Andromeda. I would've never thought you the type for this kind of…clandestine rendezvous; with a Gryffindor no less? What would dearest mummy Black say if she found out?"

His silky voice cut the heart of the silence, making the couple jump apart with fright. Andromeda's dark eyes scanned the corridor until they landed on his white blonde head. He smirked across at her as she shooed away Ted, the muggleborn hightailing it into the castle's darkness. Getting up from the partially hidden alcove she smoothed the wrinkles out of her clothes and strode across to where Lucius stood.

"You wouldn't _dare_."

"Really? It's not like you can stop me anyways Dromeda." he said, the smugness seeping into his voice. She merely smiled at the threat, a malignant twinkle settling in her eyes.

"If you even think about telling my mother, I'll tell Cissy about you. Word around the castle is that I'm not the only one who likes to…dabble in Gryffindor every once and a while."

There was silence. Andromeda was hardly the type to use such information as a bargaining chip, but he knew that he was levelling a serious threat against her and her reaction was typically Slytherin. He schooled his facial expression to ensure that he didn't confirm what she said.

"Where would you hear a thing like that? It's absolute rubbish."

"You're not as good at covering your tracks as you think you are."

"Been listening to the rumour mongers too much I see…"

"I've seen it with my own two eyes Lucius. Don't think you can hide behind the fact that she's part Veela. It isn't that strong in her despite what McNair says, and the way you looked at her…"

"You have no idea what you're talking about Andromeda," he hissed angrily; she obviously knew more than he wished she did, "it's just an infatuation."

"It's not any infatuation," she whispered, the insinuation hanging heavy between them, "that's a dangerous…_very dangerous _infatuation. Do we have a deal then?"

He frowned but nodded in agreement. Unsure of which was potentially more devastating, he knew for sure that they were in the same boat. They were both in over their heads when it came to certain Gryffindors that were definitely below their pedigree but it mattered little to them. And as history showed, Andromeda eventually divulged her secret to her family, fleeing with Tonks and taking his secret with her. He no longer had leverage on her but it had been such a long time since what she knew had relevance. So much had happened since then.

"Nice to see you, Aunt Andromeda. It's been a while."

Draco's voice cut through Lucius' reverie. There stood his only son and his wife, her eyes skimming over the many ornate chairs on their side. Sadness hung in her eyes; it was no doubt an embarrassment to her to find only her husband's parents seated in their section. None of her own family had made it. Lucius watched her keenly as she smiled despite the obvious hurt; Scorpius was her pride and joy especially since the miscarriage of her second child. His marriage, a highly publicised and extravagant event, was perhaps the single most important event in her life since her own and it was one that she wanted to share with her family. As they seated themselves in the first row next to the aisle, it became evident that their families held no interest in public redemption. That or they were already dead.

As he thought, the wedding began promptly after Draco's arrival and ran without interruption. Perfect silence reigned in the church as the nay-sayers no doubt came to see if he were really going to go through with it; as they kissed for the first time as a married couple, he felt a sharp squeeze on his hand and returned the gesture. Seated behind his son, he spent the entire ceremony clasping his wife's hand while she held her sister's hand with the right. Pride surged in him as the newly weds were presented to the crowded church; much to everyone's surprise he was the first to rise and applaud, still an impressive figure despite his 75 years of age. Next was Narcissa, pausing to dab the occasional tear from her eyes until soon all 5 of the church's right half stood in applause, the others soon following.

Scorpius and Rose, arms locked, beamed at the crowd, waving as they led the way to the reception. They apparated first, then the family members and well-wishers, to an archway of white gold with silver and gold flowers crawling lazily about, with a pathway leading up to a large tent all ornately decorated in the same colours.

Rose gasped audibly, a pretty blush staining her face as she spun around, tears of appreciation and joy glistening in her eyes. She flung herself at Lucius, the momentum almost taking him to the ground. Embarrassed, he patted her back before Scorpius came to pry her off him and carry her to the reception area. Scorpius shot him a slight smirk before taking Rose by the hand and leading her up the path and into the tent.

"Thank you so much for all of this Lucius." Molly gushed on her granddaughter's behalf, eyes greedily drinking in every expensive detail. She knew she had made the right choice when she let Lucius plan and pay for the wedding; not only was it beyond her expectations, but she felt it was his own way of paying back for all the wrongs done. He was a long way and coming, but she felt good that she had helped him in his penitence.

He merely nodded in acknowledgement and, arm in arm with Narcissa, began the walk down to the tent that he had undoubtedly walked over thousands of times in inspection. Everyone seemed to be in awe of them for despite the years they spent as feared and hated people, they still walked with a regal gait over everything that threatened the celebratory mood of the wedding. They were determined to make right after all of the humbling things that they had been through.

The Malfoy clan spent the majority of the reception talking amongst themselves, watching the others and laughing along with the ends of jokes that drifted in their direction. Occasionally Scorpius or Rose would bring someone to talk to them but it always ended in an awkward silence or a disparaging comment depending on who it was. Aunt Muriel proved to be the worst of all the guests, who had tonnes to say on Lucius' days as a Death Eater or Draco's hand in Dumbledore's death and how it would only be a matter of time before Scorpius showed his true colours. Thankfully, she had to leave early as a woman of her age couldn't stay out long while talking about the Malfoy's habits of buying people to win favours.

"Who invited _that_ old piece of dragon hide?" asked an annoyed Draco as he took a generous sip of his fire whiskey. Andromeda shrugged.

"She was at Remus and Nymphadora's wedding as well I think. I'm not really sure who she's related to." she said as she took a sip of champagne.

It was at this point, a woman approached them. She looked to be about Narcissa's age, though she didn't seem to age quite as gracefully. Her hair was long and wavy, black in colour with streaks of dark grey highlighting it. Save for the deep laugh lines on either side of her mouth, her face was practically devoid of wrinkles. Her skin was a hair's breadth away from being white and her slanted eyes were a clear, vivid blue like sapphire; when Draco saw her, he spluttered into his drink.

Lucius felt his heart stop beating for a moment. Despite her age, she didn't look much different from her Hogwarts days. She had grown back out her hair, her face had slimmed down – he could clearly see her high cheek bones – and her eyes held a vaguely haunted look but otherwise, she was very much the same. Eye's flickering down at the long pallid fingers, he noticed that she didn't wear any rings.

"Aunt Delilah," Iris, Draco's wife, said, clearly startled by the woman's presence, "I thought you weren't coming. If you didn't come it would've been quite alright…I know how you get about weddings."

The last statement was a hurried whisper, almost conspiratorial in nature. The woman, her aunt, laughed it off with a dismissive wave of her hand. Draco who had been trying to down the remnants of his fire whiskey when Iris began talking, was clearly choking on his drink as the frayed ends in his mind snapped together with eye watering clarity. When he managed to swallow his drink, he looked from his wife to the woman before him; indeed, the resemblance was remarkable, making him wonder why he had never bothered to ask before. Whereas her hair was wavy, Iris' was sleek and lank, tumbling in a barrage of straight dark brown hair down to the small of her back. And despite Iris' heart shaped face, complete with the same high cheek bones, in comparison to the other woman's oval shaped face; the attractive slant to her eyes was familiar.

"_This_ is your aunt Delilah?"


	2. Part ii

Hikaru M: Yes I know, how early for an update but truth be told, this was supposed to be a one shot. It was only when I was rereading it that I realised how long it was and divided it into parts. Made no sense giving the chapters names since they're really all the same part...if that makes any sense. Just in case you haven't picked up yet, this fic, despite the setting, is quite Lucius centred and his memories take up like half the story (meaning there hardly is a plot but moving on...) I hope you enjoy it anyways, and I apologise for the cliffhanger. I'm not really a fan of them but it was definitely the best place to stop part i. If my thoughts sound a little disjointed that's because I'm kinda sleepy. This also accounts for the lack of author's notes at the bottom.

P.S. Since the majority of the story is Lucius' memories, you might not get a sense of who Delilah is. Kinda makes her ghost-like; I quite like that. She doesn't actually appear much, but then again neither does anyone else.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Neither did I make money off the writing of this fiction nor any of the characters used (not even my own).

Part ii

Draco had seen her several times in his youth, in pictures and in person, but he had never actually met the woman; his eyes darted over to his father occasionally to monitor his reactions. The elder Malfoy held the same aloof disposition, casually disinterested, that he held when meeting new people, his face betraying none of the myriad of thoughts that Draco knew had to be going through his mind.

Iris smiled a charming smile, embracing the woman gingerly like a woman of her status would. Delilah smiled at him and nodded. He felt slightly faint; how could, of all the people in the world, this woman be related to his wife?

"And this charming young man is young Master Malfoy, I presume? I apologise for not attending your wedding dear, but as Iris rightfully said, I'm not exactly one you would want around for a wedding."

Lucius snorted lightly at the comment; if his memory served him right, Iris spent the first night of their honey moon in tears because the one person she hoped would turn up didn't. Her parents, former Death Eaters, were both dead, and many more suffered the same fate or were in Azkaban for the long haul. A few made it, but they were all "high society", being there only for the sake of being there. They were all cold and in retrospection, Lucius could not blame Iris for wanting her smiling face in the crowd.

Delilah turned to face the entire group. When her eyes landed on Lucius, a moment of sadness flashed across them before they regained their usual brightness. Next to him, Narcissa finally placed the face.

"Ah. Delilah. Russett it was, am I right?"

She beamed pathetically at Narcissa, her face twisted into the expression of one who smiled politely in the presence of their better. Andromeda watched her keenly as long forgotten memories of the woman as a school girl flashed across her mind with alarming vividness. Looking to Lucius, she noticed that he looked relatively blank as if still trying to remember where he had heard that name. His dark grey eyes falling on her, deep with an unnameable emotion, she knew that Lucius was without a doubt the most exquisite liar that the Malfoy line, or even the wizarding world, had ever produced.

"How could I ever forget you? Narcissa Black," her tone was notably ambiguous, "well…I guess you don't go by Black anymore. How terribly embarrassing of me, do forgive me. I suppose all my memories of you would be of Narcissa Black, that blonde Slytherin girl in my year...I hope you don't mind."

Narcissa dismissed her worrying as silly, pretending not to mind the slip up. Lucius could see through her mask, having been married to her all those years, and saw a viperous coldness underlying her smile. She had never really taken well to Delilah, and he believed the reverse to be true as well. He felt Narcissa loom closer to him and felt her arm link with his, no doubt a show of possessiveness to her old Hogwarts rival. Andromeda and Draco watched the soon to be tense exchange, wondering to themselves how much the other parties knew.

"So Iris dear," Narcissa started again, "how is it that Delilah came to be your aunt? If I recall correctly, Delilah, you're a half blood and Iris…isn't. I hope I don't come off as rude, I'm simply…curious."

She sipped her wine slowly, eyebrows arched slightly in askance. While she had never been much of a pure blood fanatic, she had always been cautious of half bloods and muggleborns as she was, without a doubt, a stickler for wizarding etiquette. Draco would agree; it bordered on obsessive to the point where she would bluntly state that it made no sense marrying a person unless they were well read in wizarding etiquette, which technically included the pure blood community solely. She stood awaiting the answer to her question, petty jealousy bubbling inside her troubled mind. Of course, Lucius knew full well that the jealousy she had, though never officially validated was not without cause. It was a simple fact that she never caught wind of.

"It's an interesting story actually." Iris started, clearly unbothered by Delilah's tentative silence. Taking that as a sign, Delilah picked up after her.

"We, her mum and I, have the same mum but different fathers. It was an extensively sordid, but very secretive affair…I, myself am not sure that I know all the details of it, but essentially the result is that my father was a muggle and her father wasn't. Hence my niece, gem of my wizarding family, is a pureblood and I am not."

Narcissa clearly disapproved. It was hardly acceptable when a man had children with different mothers, but for a woman to have had more than one husband was absolutely awful. Andromeda and Draco looked clearly enthralled with the idea, as it had an air of morbid fascination hanging about it. It clearly offended their pureblood sensibilities but the mere idea, trying to fathom how such an affair would work out without discovery was fascinating in the least. Lucius already knew the words coming out of her mouth, repeated time and again whenever he asked about her family life. He pretended to be obscurely fascinated.

"So who in your family then is Veela?" Andromeda asked, beside herself with curiosity, directing the question clearly at Iris. The younger woman frowned slightly in confusion. She was considered beautiful yes, but she hardly had the odd magnetic pull that a Veela would have.

"You must be mistaken. No one in my family is a Veela."

It was Andromeda's turn to frown. Delilah looked clearly amused, her blue eyes occasionally flickering to meet Lucius', who was clearly unable to look away when she did. Andromeda and Iris began competing for Narcissa's attention with their semi-argument, asking her input or opinion, dragging her eyes away the woman who was smiling reminiscently at her husband.

"_You've ruined me, Lucius."_

He could hear her soft, tormented voice echoing in his head, repeating a sentence that would plague him for the majority of his distinguished life. The last time he had heard those words, he was behind a barred cell door in Azkaban after the war…

"I think the person you should address that question to is Delilah."

The sound of Draco's drawl of a voice broke their eye contact, Delilah trying not to seem surprised at the sudden mentioning of her name. She smiled politely at Draco, who only frowned in return. He never really had approved of her much; as far as he was concerned, she was a horrible mistake from his father's past and it was there that she should stay. Lucius suspected it to be more along the lines that his wife and son had formed an alliance against him when it came to her; she made his heart flutter in ways that he thought impossible but it was just a silly fascination from Hogwarts. Just a silly fascination.

"I'm sorry?"

"The question? Who in your family is a Veela. I assume being the elder one, you would know more about your family tree…"

Andromeda's eyes drifted towards Draco, whose voice seemed to be coloured with a slight tint of dislike. His grey eyes were sharp on her yet she was clearly unaffected; Draco reminded a lot of an impetuous child who was trying to protect his father from an imaginary danger. She stifled an undoubtedly inappropriate chuckle at such a tense meeting but found herself wondering about how imaginary this danger was. Draco was no longer a hot headed teenager and he would hardly be so hostile to a member of his wife's family without cause…how much had been going on since their Hogwarts days?

"I for one am astounded at the fact that Andromeda even remembered that I am part Veela. We never even spoke; the Black family memory is something to be reckoned with indeed," she laughed lightly at that, "but Iris was right in saying that no one in her family was a Veela. It's something I got from my father."

"A muggle?!" Draco exclaimed surprised, earning a few appraising looks from the nearby crowd.

"My mother always said that knowing how close he was to magic was the one thing she loved about him the most."

It was one statement that would always sound sad coming from her mouth. Lucius began to reminisce, against his will, about their days together at Hogwarts. It was the beginning of what he could only describe as the undoing of his life. He could never pinpoint when he began to talk to her as it began mostly against his will; McNair's fascination with her began when she was in second year and they were in third. Whenever she went to the library and it was full, she shared a table with them, if she was ever spotted, they had to go and talk to her, whenever it was a trip to Hogsmeade, they accompanied her. Oftentimes Lucius found himself nauseated by McNair's fawning over her; McNair would try to cover it up as his trying to seduce her into bed with him, but Lucius could always see that whenever she was around, he would try so hard to keep her attention.

She was a fascinating creature, Lucius would concede that much to McNair. Her looks were more captivating than most, even Narcissa seemed to be jealous of her, and her mind was the womb of intelligence. The few times that Lucius had not walked away when Walden shamelessly stalked her or flagged her down, he was intrigued by the depth of mind she had. Even though his father taught him of the lesser worth of half bloods, he found himself thinking on several occasions that Walden would never be worthy of her. What she lacked in pedigree, she made up for in everything else; looking at her, he even fancied that she looked like a pure blood, save for the river of dark curls that gushed straight down her back. He tired of Walden's stories about her swiftly; he had focussed only on the exterior, not realising the side of her he had left untapped. Without realising it, Walden had led them both into a trap; they were both enthralled by her though Walden was only interested in what lay underneath her uniform. Lucius had, unfortunately, let his curiosity of half bloods get the better of him.

Even though she was a Gryffindor, she spent most of her time with them, Walden McNair and his friends, and by the time she reached third year, she would sit with them even when the library wasn't full, when they saw each other in the corridors she would speak first, even when they went to Hogsmeade she would go with them. At first he thought it was that she was finally reciprocating McNair's interest, but he soon learnt that she saw them as friends. She would smile at them and wave from the Gryffindor table across the hall. McNair would wave and smile back, Snape would give a curt nod and he would simply stare her down. Even when McNair wasn't around, she would sit with him in the library, sometimes in companionable silence and other times in stimulating conversation. He found that whenever he spent time with her, he could never see Narcissa the same.

Soon, it wasn't strange to see them together in the library though it was the only place they were friendly; anywhere else, McNair was between them, trying so hard to keep her attention with his shallow conversation. Snape often had to come to his rescue, being in her year made him an indelible tool to McNair, and began being friends with her. Lucius often spotted them talking to each other when Snape wasn't busy with another Gryffindor, some girl with shoulder length dark red hair. Despite her fascinating qualities, he never really thought much of her as the time they spent together was limited. Her mind was wasted on McNair, who always told the males in the common room about the slight swell of her still developing breasts, the rounded curve of her hips, her plump pink lips and the creamy expanse of her flawless skin. She alone seemed to be their common interest.

Lucius seemed unaffected by McNair's tales of her beauty as he often sat in a corner, busy scribbling away at some essay or another – Snape was always noticeably absent from these occasions – while he droned on about her voice and the sweet tinkling sound of her laughter, how her smile was as always brightest when she saw him and it was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. Then he would always try to save face about how badly it made him want her. Lucius couldn't help it when he broke the news to her.

She found him in the corridor, a book in hand as she jogged towards him. She didn't call his name until she got next to him, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath and her face flushed pleasantly from the exertion. As she pushed the dark hair from her face, he couldn't help but think how much prettier she was than how McNair hungrily described her.

"Lucius, you wouldn't have seen Walden around would you?"

"No. I haven't."

"I have his Transfiguration book," at this, he raised an eyebrow, "he lent me it so I could do an essay and I almost forgot that he would need it for today."

"You do a lot of that. Almost forgetting." he commented idly as he took the proffered book and flipped through the pages scanning for nothing in particular. So this is why McNair had to be borrowing his Transfiguration book for the past week…

"So he's taken to lending you his books now has he?"

It wasn't a question insomuch as it was a statement. Clearly unimpressed, he didn't realise he had said it out loud until he looked up and saw her puzzled face.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"He's not interested in friendship."

"I think I would've guessed that by now." she said, with a bit of nervous laughter, her blue eyes never leaving Lucius' face.

"Walden's always has been hinting at a relationship." Her voice was quiet when she said that, her hands clasped shyly in front of her as her face became tinted with a slight blush. Lucius noticed she couldn't look him in the face when she said that, looking at some point to her left. Again, he was clearly unimpressed. Why would any girl, even if she were just a half blood, with so much potential waste herself on a boy like Walden McNair?

"There's only one thing he's interested in, and that's what's in your knickers."

If asked, he could never say why he told her that, even though it was true. The look of horror that crossed her face as the words were analysed was unparalleled. She blanched terribly, tears welling in her eyes as she no doubt recounted every syllable uttered by McNair in his presence, in the hallways, in the library, in Hogsmeade, in the letters he wrote her ever so often and most importantly in private. He wondered vaguely if she were ever going to ask him if it were true, force him to ingest Veritaserum or at least ask him in a broken voice if he was telling the truth. The look on her face however, said that there were little clues that McNair had carelessly left behind that were coming together.

She was at the tender age of 13; Lucius wondered for a moment if it were possible for her to love someone when she was so young. The book was knocked from his hand as she rushed past him in a direction that was definitely not the Gryffindor tower. He remembered hearing rumours that she lived in the Room of Requirement at that point as her footfalls sped around the corner and disappeared into the heart of the castle. That night was the first time he had ever confided anything in Severus and the way things had happened after that, it was definitely not to be the last.

A sharp tug on his arm brought him back to the present moment. When he looked around, everyone was laughing; to save face he chuckled lightly then took a sip from his drink. The tug on his arm had been Narcissa convulsing slightly with laughter. It was good for her to free up like that, as before she often didn't have a chance to. She finished with a harsh but satisfied sigh. Looking into her brown eyes, he remembered when Narcissa had first begun charming them blue and crystalline. Then they were cold and unwelcoming, now they were filled with warmth and mirth; though the sentiment behind them was the same, the colour made all the difference. She thought she was doing something romantic when she charmed them to his favourite colour, not knowing that every time he looked into them he remembered grabbing deep handfuls of thick silky black hair as he crushed his lips hungrily against another's, hands roaming, sighing, moaning, whispering, gasping, clothes falling to the floor, bodies colliding in love against each other, heat, passion, comfort, freedom, the feel of her arms around him and the bitter realisation that one day it would all have to come to end.

"Lucius, I'm off to find Scorpius to give him my congratulations. Are you coming?"

He declined, saying he would have a lengthy word with Scorpius on his own time. Narcissa, not entirely wanting to leave her husband behind with Delilah, reluctantly let his arm go and followed Iris and a reluctant Draco to find Scorpius and his bride. Andromeda quickly left soon after, saying something about finding Teddy before disappearing into the crowd. The remaining two looked at each other for a moment, Lucius taking the last sip of his drink and Delilah merely standing serenely in front of him. His eyes caught on the necklace she was wearing, a simple chain of white gold with a rare gemstone that swirled with blue and green hues, which she had no doubt gotten from him for Christmas. It matched with her dress.

"It was a gift from someone special last Christmas." she said simply as she noticed where his eyes were. He nodded in acknowledgement of her statement.

"You wear it well."

"Thank you. This is a very nice reception that I've heard you planned."

"Thank you. It was the least I could do for my grandson."

"Scorpius if I'm correct?"

"Indeed. Scorpius. He's the only grandson I have so I assume I'm obligated to shower him in expensive things against his father's will."

She smiled, her eyes crinkling with mirth.

"I suppose so. Who would have ever thought that Lucius Malfoy, perhaps one of the most feared men since Grindelwald and Voldemort, would turn out to be a doting grandfather?"

He smirked at her comment.

"Any person who had taken the time to know me."

"Such a simple answer? You should know how hard it is to see something in a person who doesn't know who they are."

"I always watch those who know who they are." he said gently. Banter was always a feature of their conversation; it brought to mind more pleasant memories like when they had first kissed. It was in her fourth year when they really got to know one another; always exchanging titbits of information and confiding in each other things they probably wouldn't have told anyone else. He found her a more than pleasant substitute for his house sometimes, when tempers were running high and every word counted. She was refreshment from walking on eggshells constantly; he envied her naïveté and innocence, the fact that she was raised in a straightforward household where what was said was what was meant and that she hardly had to be pretentious and deceitful to get by. She was allowed to live a normal life uninhibited and without constant vigilance. Maybe that was the reason why they spoke so much; her word was more valuable than he had known.

A selfish being like himself wanted her all to himself; his envy of her life began to morph into a horrible possessiveness. Being a Malfoy, he simply always got what he wanted. She was untainted by the corruption and reputation that dogged him everyday, free of the rules that regulated everything from his deportment to his yawns, free to live her life and grow at her own pace and establish her own rules. He was jaded as a rule of inheritance; she had the choice. While he was too far gone, he could live vicariously through her and enjoy the freedoms she so clearly took for granted. Simply being near a pure soul like her lifted the burdens of life from his shoulders; it was a feeling that he couldn't get from Narcissa or McNair, Snape, Crabbe, Goyle or from anyone in his house. It was a feeling that he wouldn't dare seek from anyone else. And though he knew he shouldn't have, he trusted her; he sought that exhilarating feeling from her and it was from this ridiculous attachment that he came to need her.

Their first kiss was gentle; not demanding or rough like when he was with Narcissa, and definitely not heated with passion. As time went on their kisses would become more intense and sear with a flash of heat wherever lips landed but their first had been timid; he could taste the fear and uncertainty in her mouth as they finally defined what they had both been feeling. He didn't push her and she didn't fight him, they simply sat in the darkness of the castle, lips pressed in meek chasteness against each other, hands slipping through white blonde hair and arms wrapping around a slimming waist. It was one of the few moments of gentleness that Lucius had ever initiated in his lifetime and the mere thought sent tingles across his mouth as though he was 15 again. That had been the freedom he had been thinking of whenever he spoke to her and for a moment, all was well. The simple smile he had received and the peck on the cheek was, amazingly, enough for him. It was the promise of a bright future and a compensation for the past he had suffered; it was all he needed and the thoughts of his reality never crossed his mind. Snape had been quick to point out how it was bound to fail; fate could never permit the son of Abraxas Malfoy to be happy so easily. How right he had been…

"The son must pay for the sins of the father." he muttered, unaware that she was still there.

"Talking to yourself in public? The Lucius I knew would never have done that…reflecting on your life's story I presume. You seem to be deep in thought Lucius. Perhaps we can catch up some other time."

By the time he had caught what she had said, she had disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind no trace of the long curls of black hair or the vivid blue eyes. She was like a ghost, leaving not even the warmth of her presence behind. Thinking that it wasn't the time or place to reflect on love lost, he quickly bade the bridal party farewell saying jokingly that at his old age he shouldn't be staying out so late and after reassuring Narcissa that he was simply tired, he apparated to the Manor where the family celebrations would continue later.


	3. Part iii

Hikaru M: If it gets confusing at any point, just drop me a line. Remember, Lucius is using a Penseive, which I for lack of knowledge don't how it works exactly, meaning that if he's mentioned twice in a sentence I'm bothering to distinguish between him and his past self. The scene transitions are cheesy but again with the Penseive: artistic licence is awesome lol. And yes, time passes between these memories so if you want, fill in the gaps. This will be the last I'm bringing out for now (currently working on iv) so enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. We've established this. Let's move on.

Part iii

Alone in his awesome expanse of a house, he found himself seated in his study, pictures of her teenaged self smiling back up at him; some were of her lying in grass, face overcome with a grin, others were from Hogsmeade, some were of her in class or around the castle and then he came to the last ones. They were from his seventh year; most were from the night of his graduation where she simply sat, in all her finery, trying her best not to look upset. One however, caught his attention. She was asleep, black hair blanketing the pillow like a river on a starless night, some in her flushed face and though it was only up to her shoulders, he knew her to be nude. Peeking above the bottom of the picture as her chest rose and fell was the blanket to confirm what he already knew. It was either the first or last time he had made love to her; the date was irrelevant; the only thing he was interested in was how peaceful she looked. It was a peace he could never have and he felt those old feelings of jealousy creep over him.

Glinting innocently over from him was his Pensieve. For a moment, he stared at it dumbly before giving into temptation, pulling the first of many memories from his overburdened brain. Darkness, then the scene unfolded before him: two youngsters sitting closely by each other before a fire, the young lady dragging her long pallid fingers through a younger Lucius' then short blonde hair. He shuddered lightly whenever she absentmindedly dragged her fingertips across the back of his neck. Save for the crackling of wood in the fireplace, absolute silence reigned. Shutting his eyes, the young Lucius lay his head on her shoulder, allowing her to continue her ministrations while he drifted in and out of sleep. He grumbled lightly in appreciation of her fingers tousling his hair, tracing lazy circles in his scalp and she in turn smiled blankly, watching the fire.

"Lucius?"

"Hmmm."

"Why is you hair always so short?"

"It's how a man wears his hair."

Silence. She appeared deep in thought for a moment as Lucius grumbled appreciatively into her bared collar bone. Pulling at the wispy locks of hair, she began to twirl them around her finger before running her fingers through his hair. Trailing her fingers down his neck absentmindedly once more, he exhaled with a groan as she drew a line up and down his neck with her fingernails.

"Why don't you grow it out? Like a ponytail…"

He looked up somewhat groggily.

"What for?"

"A change I guess…who knows. You might actually like it."

The scene became absorbed in darkness, then, he found himself standing in the Slytherin common room, Narcissa hot on his heels as he came through the door. His hair had grown to cover half the back of his neck and her brown eyes were silently cutting the ends away.

"Why is your hair so long?"

"It's hardly a few inches longer. And at any rate, it's just an experiment so if I don't like it I'll cut it off."

"Fine. But to walk around with such long and unkempt hair is just uncivilised! Perhaps I'll lend you one of my school ribbons, a black one of course, to pull back your hair with."

Stomping off to her dormitory, she later re-emerged with a lengthy black silk ribbon gripped tightly in her hand. Taking the white blonde ends in her hand, she wrapped it around and charmed it in place, admiring her handiwork and at the same time disapproving of the length of his hair.

"I hope this experiment doesn't last long."

"We'll see."

The scene before him darkened again, this time leaving him in temporary darkness before thrusting him into a bedroom of sorts, a room he recognised to be the Room of Requirements. There again, before a fire, sat himself and a young Delilah, her arm linked in his and her head laid upon his chest.

"I see you decided to take my advice after all. You've even got a little ribbon."

"Narcissa's. She wasn't pleased about it."

"Irrelevant. I bet, when it gets longer, she'll absolutely love it. Besides, it's your hair. She's got no right to tell you what to do with it."

"Neither have you."

"Always the man of few words," she giggled lightly, "and I never told you what to do with your hair. I simply made a suggestion which you, surprisingly, actually listened to. Honestly, there's no reason for there to be such a big fuss; it's not even that long!"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I never would, because I'm a half blood," she started, anger seeping into her voice, "I'm not brain-dead Lucius. If I don't understand, help me to. We don't have the same up-bringing or the same standards. All I'm trying to do is understand, the least you could do is help me."

Her anger gave way to sadness as her voice quietened. He took her hand and squeezed it lightly, unsure of what to say. The gap between them that resulted from their social standings always aggravated her, especially when Lucius was annoyed and hid behind his father's prejudices. She tried so hard to live up to the standards that he was accustomed to, not realising that that wasn't what he wanted. He would keep her in the dark about them, in a sense manipulating her to ensure that she remained as she was; untainted by the rules that kept him in bondage.

"Pureblood protocol. It's simply a given that all males keep a certain standard of grooming; long hair is simply unacceptable because it reminds of either females or animals. Are you happy now?"

Even though he couldn't see her, he knew she was smiling. She patted his stomach, slipping her fingers through the spaces in between buttons to stroke the tanned skin. As usual, it was a moment beyond words as her cool fingers stroked his stomach clearly trying to illicit a reaction from him. She could be so innocently wicked sometimes, doing things without realising the consequences. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, inhaling their combined scents through his nose. He was in his 6th year by then and the clock was slowly ticking away on them. It wasn't something that he liked to think about, but in the quiet when they were together, seated side by side or huddled next to each other in bed it crossed his mind. In moments of blissful eternity, he the pessimist could never forget that one day he would have to leave her behind.

"Why do you love me? Your time is being wasted on me; we can never be together. It's not proper or decent. What we do…it can never be found out. Why do you love me?"

A nasal sigh of a snort indicated that she was amused by his question.

"I'm different to my parents. So are you. You might not see it but I do. You're strong, Lucius, and determined, confident, intelligent and though you're loath to admit it, caring. Such a beautiful person like yourself was never meant to be all these things."

He never got to hear the end of that conversation as soon he was plunged into darkness. Unlike the times before, light didn't engulf him. Instead he was greeted by sounds made all too familiar over the span of his lifetime. Her voice has been reduced to gasps and mewls; his own grunts and occasionally whispered words. If he remembered correctly, it had taken them quite a while before their relationship had escalated to that level, leaving a trail of purple marks on her alabaster coloured neck, leading onto her collar bone and sometimes shoulders before they took it to the next level. By then, he was in over his head. To his mind, he wasn't capable of love only this absurd fascination that created mind frenzying passion, numbing out everything linked to the world outside their door. Together, they recreated their own little world, a secret that lived only inside that room for in the hallways they were nothing to each other: he was Narcissa's fiancé and she was the apple of McNair's eye. If he was capable of a sentimental side, he would say that his heart was with her. Unfortunately, Abraxas was not as eloquent with his disapproval as Lucius was with his feelings.

The door sprang open with a bang, light flooding into the room, revealing the young lovers. In the door way stood none other than his father, black eyes aflame as they landed on Lucius, his loosed blonde hair past his shoulders, and Delilah, face flushed and her hair sticking to her face. They were slick with sweat, sheets half covering their naked, joined bodies.

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy." He was seething with quiet rage.

She covered herself, grasping at the sheets to hide her indecency from the angry wizard. Lucius couldn't react; his heart had stopped beating and his face was blank.

"_This_ is your half blood whore? The one you've been telling me about? _This_ is the girl that you want to throw away _generations _of reputation for? A common, vile creature with so little _upbringing_ that she can hardly resist when you tempt her with shaft? I bet she moans like a whore as well. Don't you girl?"

His voice was quiet and hard with spite but to Lucius it might as well have been thunder, echoing about the empty room. Lucius had never seen his father, ordinarily a composed and articulate man, in such a state. He who was once a cold and distant figure that Lucius had endlessly tried to illicit a reaction from was there, frame filling the doorway he had slammed shut, marching over to them.

Though she was in awe of his father, she stood firm, not giving voice to whatever emotions were inside of her. He stopped a few inches away from the bed, eyes cast in judgement over her. Abraxas was, as far as Lucius knew, a man with a voracious appetite for the female body; many a time the Manor would be filled with the sounds of love making even when his mother was off visiting family. He never said a word to her about it. Perhaps she knew all along but insisted on suffering in silence; which ever it was, it was definitely not the time to be thinking of it.

The older Malfoy's hands cupped her face, fingers trailing down her neck before hovering above the sheet. Before he could snatch it off, Lucius grabbed his hand, eyes ablaze with possessiveness. Abraxas merely sneered at him, removing the offending hand.

"Is she that precious to you that you would defy the will of your father?" his voice was soft and taunting, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

The scene flickered and changed. Watching his father touch her, face contorted in mock ecstasy as he kissed her exposed flesh, occasionally licking her, eyes never leaving Lucius' looking for a flicker of rage so as to punish her for his sins: that was a memory he didn't want to relive. Instead he saw himself now in the Manor, standing before his father's table.

"I know you think that she may be worth tarnishing the family name for, but I will not allow you to break off your engagement with Narcissa to be with half-blood trash."

His father was back to his cold, disinterested self, eyes glued to a letter he had been reading not even bothering to look at his son as he addressed him. Lucius stood dutifully; face carefully blank as his father berated her.

"She is only attracted to you for your name. Look at her, she isn't worth squandering a Knut on and you want to throw your whole future away on her? You were raised better than that. I'm very disappointed in you. Do you even know her?"

"Delilah Russet. Her mother is Antivynd Gr…"

"Antivynd?" this caught his father's attention, black eyes peering over the rims of his glasses to inspect his son's face, "surely you don't mean Antivynd Grant-Davenport? A disgraced pureblood witch who, like you, had a bright future but threw it all away on _love_. What an absurd notion. She was a whore in disguise…no wonder her mixed blood spawn is the same. Do you know what ever became of dear Antivynd?"

Lucius, never having heard much about her mother, shook his head. Abraxas sneered up at him.

"Of course not. She ran off to be with her _muggle_," he spat the word out, a vein in his neck bulging in disgust, "had your precious slut and threw her bright future away. Now," his face brightened with malicious self-righteousness, "she wants to rid herself of that filth that defiled her and return to respectable society. Learn from the blood traitor's mistakes boy; don't be foolish enough to throw your old age away on the impetuousness of your youth. This is a test of your manhood; nothing tests a man like the loss of something he thinks he wants. Earn your manhood Lucius, and earn it well. Now get out."

At that he watched himself leave before the images began to morph into another scene. He was back in the Room of Requirement, watching them argue vehemently. He was in 7th year now, his ponytail long and proud. He had completely filled out, chest straining against his school shirt which was fitting a little tightly at the shoulders. She had also filled out for although her breasts were of a humble size her torso was lean, leading to her nicely rounded hips and thick, muscular legs.

"When has trusting me ever been an issue?"

"You have the potential to destroy my reputation. My _family's_ reputation. I have to be sure."

"How dare you? You know that I would _never_ do that to you Lucius. All this time I've been keeping this secret; _our _secret and never said a word; why would I start now? But I suppose you want to be sure then," she was nearing hysterics now, "but you wouldn't dare use a memory erasing charm."

He went deathly silent. Seeing this, she went slack. He had thought about it, a memory erasing charm, and her mentioning it only brought the seriousness of the situation back to his mind. '_Nothing tests a man like the loss of something he thinks he wants.'_

"You…you wouldn't dare use a memory charm…would you?"

He said not a word. She made an odd distressed noise; for a moment he thought her voice had died in the back of her throat. Taking his silence to be an indication that he would, her face became contorted in anguish, a look of sad yet mild understanding alighting on her features.

"Of course you would. I was foolish to think that any of this mattered to you. To think that _I_ mattered to you."

Something almost died inside him when she said that, her voice barely above a broken whisper. The thought of destroying his sanctuary…to see her everyday and not be able to seek escape…him being the only one to hold memories of their nights spent in darkness and not being to share with her that feeling of being free. To look into her eyes innocently and know that he, like a dementor, had sucked out the essence of what made her his addiction was something he could never live with. He had to change the subject and divert her attention to something else…

"Tell me about your mother."

His voice was calm, not betraying the intense strain his mind was under. She looked up at him, staring into his face for a moment before speaking.

"Antivynd was once a part of the pureblood high society too. She would never raise me to her standards; I was but a lowly half blood. I wasn't worthy enough to be brought up like a pureblood. What sacrilege. Whenever she grudgingly carried me with her to the wizarding world, I was a laughing stock. I was her point of shame. She would always say, you look so pretty like a pureblood it's a pity you really aren't one, and she would always be red with shame whenever she met one of her old friends. Sometimes she would wish that I was a squib so I could stay with the muggles and her and my father would always get into terrible rows. I wasn't worthy of Antivynd Grant-Davenport; so she left without a word. My father wasn't worthy enough either; the only thing she ever loved about him was how close to magic he was."

Her voice was void of emotion as she said this, a solitary tear stealing its way down her smooth cheek. '_Antivynd Grant-Davenport? A disgraced pureblood witch who, like you, had a bright future but threw it all away on _love'

"You know, muggles and wizards aren't so different."

That statement, contradictory to everything he had learnt in his youth, caught his attention. He should've stopped listening at that point, but the underlying humour in her otherwise miserable voice held him there, ears open to hear her.

"Muggles have stupid prejudices as well. My dad, he hates people with darker skin than he's got. Silly isn't it? My mum thought so, but still she hated him because he couldn't do magic. I think that's silly as well. It wasn't dad's fault, but she hated him anyway. It's not the neighbour's fault, but he hates him anyway. Why do people do that?"

He couldn't bring himself to answer.

"Why despise someone for something they had no control over? It's not my fault Lucius. Believe me when I say that if I could, I would change, not for Antivynd but for you."

He couldn't take it anymore. Crossing over to her, he took her into his arms trying to wipe the sight of her distraught and tear streaked face out of his mind. She sobbed against him, wetting his shirt with her tears but he couldn't care then. His mind was crowded with thoughts he didn't want, the most prevalent being that the end was coming soon. No darkness came this time. Instead, bright streaks of sunlight tore through the image before him, bringing him back to the day he had dreaded so many years ago. The day of his graduation. The ceremony passed him in a haze of people and chatter; he had spent most of the time trying to find Delilah but had to contend with his father and Narcissa first. At last, he managed to break free of the crowds and slipped into the castle, strolling to the Room of Requirement. When he pushed the door open, there was only furniture inside. She wasn't there. Instead, he strolled down to the dungeons and got his broom, flying outside and up to the Gryffindor tower window that she had pointed out to him once. She had said the view was beautiful from her window.

Knocking on it lightly, he waited, wondering if she was actually there. As he was about to resume his search, it opened up, her head poking timidly through it to see what had hit her window only to find Lucius on his broom hovering inches away from her window. He clamoured inside, pulling his broom in as he crouched on her bed. Yanking the curtains shut on her four poster bed, he charmed it to silence and privacy, lying next to her as they spent their last moments together.

"You weren't there at the end of the ceremony."

"I wasn't in the mood for seeing Walden."

They lay in silence, facing one another. He put his hand in her thick black hair, feeling it glide through his fingers for the last time, smoothing out the curls before letting them spring back into place. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation while it lasted, the corners of her pink lips turning upwards slightly. His arm lay across her neck as he grabbed a fistful of her hair, savouring the feel of it between his fingers. She pressed her hands lightly against his hard chest before running a hand up to cup his square jaw in her hand for the last time.

"Why did you come here?"

"I'm not Antivynd."

She opened her eyes slightly to look at him, looking as though she had now woken from sleeping. Her eyes were vivid and glassy.

"This is it. Years of being your torrid affair have come to an end and though I should be glad to be free of the secrets, I'm not. Something about you enthrals me, keeping me against my will, if I ever had any, and holding me captive to you. You've spoilt me rotten. I'll never be able to find another like you and even if I could, I wouldn't want to. No one will be able to compare to you. You've ruined me for any other man, Lucius Malfoy…you've ruined me."

After those words, there would be no passionate love making, not even a solemn kiss, just they two lying in her bed, embracing each other before he would crawl back out the window when she had dozed off, flying his broomstick into the night's cold and poisonous darkness.


	4. Part iv

Author's note: Sorry about that. I accidentally posted the whole thing that I've done so far burns with shame. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Which reminds me! Thanks to all of you so far, who've left reviews or favourited this story! I'm so glad you like it. Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou :D

Warning: In this chapter, I mention Draco liking Harry. Although this has hardly anything to do with the plot overall, I'm just issuing a warning to those who might find it offensive. Again I repeat, it has nothing really to do with the story, so there won't be any boy loving part later in the story.

Disclaimer: At no point in time during the writing of this fiction did I make any profit. The characters do not belong to me; I am simply a fan making use of my perverse imagination. Hence the name fanfiction. Please don't sue me. I don't have any money.

Part iv

Years had passed before he would see her again; he knew that for certain as he stood in complete darkness for a few moments, waiting for the scene to abstractly re-arrange itself like it had before. Absorbed in his own thoughts, he did not acknowledge the steady stream of memories long past rushing past him. Those were the years he had spent with his father, with Narcissa, almost having forgotten her many words whispered in the darkness or the salty taste of her tear streaked face as he kissed her flushed cheeks before escaping into the night. He had become so entrenched with living that he had forgotten the past, a distant memory with all the clarity of a dream half remembered at the break of dawn. All around him he could hear the sounds of the Malfoy Manor, snippets of conversation zipping past his ears, heated whispers and clipped icy tones. Somewhat satisfied with his station in life, his memories of her began to grow foggier and foggier with everyday that he spent with Narcissa, then a humble believer of the dogma that had been taught to her since youth. The constant repetition of those stale ideas had tied him down, without his even realising it, bringing him back under Abraxas' control.

It was during this time of subliminal brain-washing that he joined the ranks of Voldemort, content in the knowledge that he was in a seat of power like he was destined to be. Yet sometimes, when the screams of mudbloods ringed in his ears, her voice would also, with words made indistinct by the passing of time. As time passed, the feelings of guilt and disgust he felt began to die down; by 26, he had been married to Narcissa for a year, a death eater for 7, and able to endure the tortured screams of muggle borns and halfbloods for 5. It was around that same year that Voldemort had killed the Potters and went after young baby Harry; it was the year when his own son was born; it was also the first time he had seen her since their school days.

He played the part of a dutiful son and follower, never belying to anyone the sense of loss he felt, as the adage said, time heals all wounds and soon the bitterness he fought back became less and less until it was barely a dull ache in his chest. Long having given up on her, he flung himself into his pre-cut destiny, not knowing that it would be in the retracing of those old steps that would lead him back to her. The scene finally became coherent, figures in dark cloaks with skulls for masks stood before a seated figure. Having been in the man's presence long enough, he knew the chill that hung in the air like a familiar.

"Since you have joined my cause what have you done to show your loyalty? Lucius Abraxas Malfoy."

His voice was, even then, a quiet hiss in the darkness. The snake Nagini, coiled idly around his feet, large eyes glinting in the poor light of the room.

"Milord, with all due respect, every task that you have put forward to me, I have completed without fail or complication. Nothing I have done would suggest that I have allegiances to anyone but you milord."

A pause. Lucius spoke mostly to the ground, his head bowed reverently in the mighty wizard's presence, waiting for the man to acknowledge what he said.

"That is all you have done to prove yourself?"

"I am born of pureblood nobility milord. I know no other way."

In the back of his mind, the ghost of her presence whispered, disappointed and unnerved by this betrayal. He ignored it, knowing that it was a crucial time for him to exercise Occlumency lest he be found out. The man's eyes rested on him before flickering over to the person next to him, Walden McNair. It was his turn to bow under the malevolent presence of those eyes, heavy with hatred.

"McNair. It has come to my understanding that you, unlike Lucius, have not held true to your status. Lusting after a halfblood in your Hogwarts days? Such blasphemies are not allowable in my fold," his voice took on the dangerous, low quality it usually held before it became saccharine with false mercy; Lucius strained to keep his face blank, "but I will give you a chance to redeem yourself McNair. Kill her, to prove your loyalty to me. Kill her."

McNair, like the fool he was, thanked his lord repeatedly for the chance to prove himself, relief lying plainly on his features, his heart beat thundering loudly in Lucius' ears. Had they not been in the Dark Lord's presence, he would have surely wept with joy. Lucius had to swallow the urge to strangle him to death. Soon would begin the search for her, leading them towards Godric's Hollow once more to complete McNair's terrible task. The fleeting thought of Godric's Hollow brought Severus to mind, and how pale the man had looked when he saw the lifeless body of that girl, now a woman, her dark red hair like blood in the light of the moon, concealing her face from view. The sight of him brushing it tenderly out of her face only to let loose a mangled cry at her wide open green eyes set deep in her pale and drawn face, the look of terror etched deep into it as the safety of her only child would have been the last thought in her mind before the green flash of light…it had hurt him to see his friend like that. Luckily for him, until that moment, the one who held him in a vice grip had faded into the years, intangible like a phantom and cherished like a blurred childhood memory. Now he wasn't so sure.

The thought of him brushing the dark, limp locks out of her face to see eyes wide with terror set firmly in her already pallid face startled him. She was always to be with the living. No doubt Severus had thought that as well. He even went as far as to plead for her life and had secured a promise to the effect that he would not harm her. Yet he did. Lucius didn't even have that luxury: first there was his reputation to consider, and secondly, he would have to be the one to put an end to her. As far as he was concerned, she had not a hope in hell. She had, so far, been safe in her obscurity, but as McNair began to close in on her, she began to solidify, materialising out of the years of distance put between them. The more real she became, the more frantic he was until, in a rash need to do something, he plucked a hair off Severus and made a Polyjuice potion. Keeping it locked away as a secret, he posed several innocuous questions to McNair until finally, he found out where she was. He was a few steps ahead of McNair, as usual, but it would only be a few days till she was to be disposed of. Without much hesitation and a flash of Gryffindor courage he was sure she would be proud of, he downed the potion, waiting for it to take effects before flooing into her home.

When he stepped out of the fireplace, he looked about curiously. The place hummed with her presence and warmth, sending trills of familiarity down his body. He scowled, a typically Severus like action he assumed and took a seat, careful not to be visible lest he endanger Severus' life with his folly. Thinking it wise to be seated so as not to draw attention to himself from outside, he pulled a chair around, backing the window. He idly wondered if she was even at home and cursed himself for his stupidity. Lucius watched as the young 'Severus' sat, deep in thought, not noticing the soft hum of her voice as it got progressively louder. From his spot, Lucius could see down the corridor and into the kitchen a little; the swish of a black cloak alerted him to the fact that she had a guest, but he couldn't make out whom.

She walked in, her voice echoing in the room making his transformed self look up. Her eyes hadn't landed on him yet, as she was looking backwards, addressing whoever it was in the kitchen. When she turned however, she stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide with fright as she saw Severus Snape sitting in her living room.

"Severus!"

She didn't even have her wand on her.

"I haven't much time to waste on greetings if you don't mind." Severus' rich voice drawled out of his throat. She glanced backwards, into the corridor, and not one to miss an opportunity afforded, Lucius glanced with her, only to see Severus standing rooted to the spot. It seemed that he had much underestimated his old friend. The Severus in her living room missed the gesture and continued in his bored voice.

"I shouldn't be here, but," he faltered for a moment, "I thought that you should know that the Dark Lord has you as his next target."

A moment's silence. At the time, Lucius had understood the analytical look she had given him – after all, Severus was hardly one for favours – but he had never understood why it was that her eyes watered and a slight smile crossed her face. The look she had given him was frightening; it was like she could tell that it was him. Now knowing that a few paces behind her stood Severus, he thought that perhaps she did.

"I see. Thank you for the warning, _Severus_," the ensuing pause was pregnant with tension, "thank you."

Her voice had died down into a whisper. Nodding, he rose to leave, a handful of Floo powder in his hand.

"How is Lucius?"

Her question caught him unawares. He turned to look her in the eye; there was that overwhelming sense that she knew who he was yet saved him the trouble anyways.

"Lucius is…fine…"

Not wanting to spend another minute in her home, lest he compromise Severus or do something foolish, he threw the powder into the fireplace and left. He hadn't seen when she collapsed at the hearth, sobs wracking her body as Severus finally stepped forth to awkwardly console her. There were several things that he knew he could never see in his memories; so much had passed him by as the years rolled on.

A few days later, he was back at her house, this time donning the jet black robes and the skull mask of the Death Eater. They had learnt that like Hogwarts and many other Order strongholds, her house had wards against apparition and so had to enter via Floo. He should have known that she would join the Order; it was almost a pre-requisite for any self-respecting Gryffindor, yet at the same time, he could not believe how easily she had placed herself in danger. Unlike the Potters' residence, hers was a single storey, so they follwed McNair through out the house. Eventually, they found her asleep in her room, black hair fanned out around her head like waves. The long black curls for which she became well known had been cut he noticed, and appeared only long enough to reach her shoulders. She moaned and rolled over onto her back; she seemed to be taking a nap as she was fully dressed, shoes and all. In her right hand, she securely gripped her wand.

Wanting to make a show of killing her, McNair used harmless little spells to rouse her from sleeping. He wanted her to know it was him who killed her. With a stretch and a sigh, she sat up, looking around groggily. It took her a moment to notice them, the 4 tall masked and hooded men flanking the sides of her bed. Lucius felt his heart sink for a moment; he could clearly recall the thoughts of Severus's strangled cries as his fingers ghosted across that woman's skin. What was her name again? Ah, yes. Lily.

McNair officially drew his wand, as though expecting a duel though he knew it would be a slaughter. As he opened his mouth to speak, she bolted, straight out of the sheets and over the foot of the bed, which he had recognised to be directly in line with the door. They wasted no time in pursuit, McNair in front with Lucius right behind him as they followed her thundering and chaotic footfalls over the noise of their own. As he ran, a stray though from his youth had come back to him. He had asked her, why her legs were so muscular looking. She replied that whenever she was at home, she would run and never look back; there was power like a horse in her legs and as they struggled to catch her, a slight smile crossed his lips.

Barging into the living room, they fired spells, Lucius half-heartedly so, at her as she threw the remnants of Floo powder into the hearth and vanished. With no powder left, they couldn't follow her. Not that it mattered, as it turned out that she floo'ed to Diagon Alley and had then vanished into the numerous networks across the country. McNair was beside himself with despair.

"She _has_ to come back here. I say we stay here till she returns."

Dolohov pushed the hood down, the visible parts of his face contorted with contempt for McNair's statement.

"I don't think half bloods are the smartest either, but I'm sure that even _muggles_ wouldn't return to a house that's been compromised. Face it McNair, you've failed, so we should just bugger off before the Order turns up."

Lucius was content to let her go, and Severus had been none too pleased to be there in the beginning. Dolohov merely smirked at him, dark eyes piercing him as he cackled at how displeased with McNair their lord would be. Looking about the sparsely decorated house, McNair realised that Dolohov's words, no matter how taunting, were true, and led the way out the back where they disapparated back to whence they came.

The scene disintegrated, plunging Lucius into momentary darkness once again. After her narrow escape from Godric's Hollow, he hadn't seen her until the final battle at Hogwarts, her eyes wide and alive with some unnamed aggression that he had never seen, spells flying all about them and the sounds of large scale destruction ringing in his ears. Those were memories far from the one he found himself in now, watching as he opened the door into his study to find a young Draco, now a sprightly young lad of 7, holding up pictures in his chubby little hands. The look of confusion on the boy's figures confirmed what Lucius knew already: he had found the pictures of her in his study. Lucius watched as his 33 yr old self frown and cross the threshold of his office, grey eyes dark and heavy on Draco's small form.

He slammed the drawer shut, eyes not once leaving his son's face as he tried to figure out who the woman was. As his father's large shadow swallowed him, Draco dropped the pictures eyes wide with fright as he stared up into his father's cold, blank face. Despite the sunshine pouring in through the study's wide window, inside the room felt cold for Draco. He knew this because he knew it was always the same when Abraxas gave him the same emotionless, yet blatantly angry, stare. His nose wrinkled lightly in displeasure as he regarded the boy cowering before him, trying to merge his frame into the tall-backed chair.

"What are you doing in here boy?"

He hated that word, but it always slipped out of his mouth in a low growl of a voice whenever he was angry.

"I was looking for you and I got bored…"

"Haven't I told you to never touch my things?"

Draco merely nodded, his white blonde hair falling into his eyes at the timid motion.

"Answer me boy!"

He was practically snarling now, his eyes narrowed with impatience. Unlike Abraxas, he could exhibit some form of self-control yet he could feel the old man's ire coursing through his blood as he tried to pry out of his son some form of an answer. He barely caught the feeble whisper that had escaped his son before he continued.

"Time and again I have told you never to touch my things, yet still I find you here in my study, riffling through my drawers without my permission. I thought you were capable of understanding simple instructions. Clearly I overestimated you as a Malfoy. Listen to me, and listen to me well. You are forbidden from ever setting foot in this study without my knowledge; if you dare tread in this room, I shall punish you with a fury that Merlin himself could never muster."

Draco nodded again with timid understanding, eyes wide at the threat levelled at him. He looked to the ground as he made his way to the door and waiting until he was outside of the great door to look back at his father, childish curiosity filling his slate coloured eyes. Lucius' visage softened lightened slightly at the sight, his mind temporarily off the pictures strewn about the floor. He could feel the curiosity bubbling in his son, and as he thought, his son soon asked him a question. It was, after all, the best way to learn something.

"Papa. Who was she?"

Lucius looked down at one of the smiling pictures, her blue eyes innocent and piercing as she grinned up at him. He frowned at it, watching the photograph's actions before looking his only heir in the eye. If only he had chosen her…

"No one. She was no one. Now go to your room, and don't mention this to anyone."

"Not even Mama?"

"Not even Mama."

Draco didn't realise it yet, as he trudged onto his bedroom, but he had stumbled onto one of the best kept secrets in the history of his family, accidentally implicating himself in Lucius' long dead affair. Though the pictures had long rested undisturbed at the bottom of the drawer he now knew they would never be safe. Draco would never disobey an instruction set out by his father – indeed, he had broken several of his mother's at his father's request – but the mere fact that a boy of 7 could, without trying, find them meant that if Narcissa had ever felt the need to go snooping about, the effects would simply be devastating. She had, as expected, stayed clear of his study but who was to say that one day in a hormone driven craze she wouldn't barge into his office in his absence and find those unexplainable pictures? Draco had done it, much to Lucius' ire and surprise, so it would only be a matter of time before she decided that, after 8 years of marriage the house was as much hers as it was his and tread freely about. Somehow, he felt betrayed. He no longer held absolute power in his house; if he was to prevent his secret from being found out, he had to destroy those pictures – the only tangible link to his past.

But looking down into her smiling visage, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Instead, he gathered them up in his hands, charming them, watching as the images dissolved into innocent blankness before hiding them again under the seat of his high-backed chair, sealing it rigorously with spells. He stood in the absolute silence of the room, breath held inside as though a simple sigh would expel every secret thought that he'd had since he was born. Once a fortress, his home had become a safe, the contents of which had the capacity to destroy or free him. He wasn't sure which would be the result, and he honestly didn't want to know either.

Lucius closed his eyes and when he opened them, he stood inside a sprawling room, one which he later recognised to be the drawing room magically joined onto his study. He sat in his chair, steadily writing away on a piece of paper when across the room from him sat Narcissa and Draco, then 13, leafing through the pages of her yearbook from Hogwarts. At Draco's insistence, they looked at everyone, dropping snide comments as they slowly made their way to the back of the book. Clearly, he spent much of his time home with his mother as she smirked amusedly at his comments before adding her own. In the space of a few hours, he had heard more about whose acne resembled Spattergroit and which wizard was terrible at dressing himself than he cared. They were at the Gryffindor section now, or had been for a long time, when Lucius heard his snarky son go silent.

Thankful for the reprieve, he looked up, seeing the frightfully blank look on the boy's face. His eyes were widened with shock, and almost instinctively, Lucius' gut tightened. The boy had paled slightly yet all this went unnoticed by Narcissa who was busy pointing out someone who had almost melted their robes in third year. Feebly, he raised his hand, index finger struggling to stay up.

''Who is she?"

Narcissa peered down at the page, her nose wrinkling slightly at whom her son was pointing. Lucius, the one seated at his desk, pretended to still be working, though he was no longer scratching furiously on the paper. Standing, Lucius watched as Narcissa pulled out her wand and prodded the picture, a little Delilah hovering over the now empty picture. She was only a few inches tall, but even from his distance he could tell the creamy skin from the black thicket of hair, sleeves rolled back – despite the complaints of a few teachers- and skirt floating above her knees. A moment's silence then she smiled, Draco's eyes glued to her tiny form, much to his mother's displeasure.

"If you don't remember me, I'm Delilah Russett…"

Narcissa pulled her wand away before she could continue. Draco's eyes flashed upwards towards his father, who in turn gave him a cold glare and a raised eyebrow, tempting him to test Lucius' wrath. His eyes flickered back down to the page in humility, taking a deep breath before sneering and poking the face next to hers.

"I bet he ate a lot of chocolate frogs during the hols."

Then without warning, everything sped up, the walls moved about and the sun came and went in quick bursts of light. People passed around him, next to him, and even through him with alarming speed before finally he stood in his study, restored to its former self. In front of him was Draco, facing him sitting reading through a letter, occasionally writing something on the paper. While his own face was calm, Draco appeared to be an absolute mess.

"Father you've no idea what you're talking about!"

Lucius stopped writing for a moment to peer up at his son. He smothered the desire to roar with indignation; his son had _no_ idea how much he knew about the subject and therefore had no place to say he was ignorant. For a moment he considered the situation; Draco, like he had done so many years ago to Abraxas, barged into his office professing some form of affection for Harry Potter. At first he was shocked by his son's blunt handling of the subject, having frozen from the time the words hit his ears, yet looking up at his son now, he didn't see a fire fuelled by the determination, he saw fear and cowardice. He was hoping for Lucius' approval. Lucius knew from that point that it hardly deserved the cold sweat that had assailed him when he pretended to be unfazed by his son's questionable sexuality. Taking care to keep the weariness out of his voice, he spoke his words clearly.

"It is nothing more than a passing admiration."

"How would you know? What do you know about me anyway?"

Clearly, he was annoyed that Lucius didn't believe him.

"Stop wasting my time boy. Do you honestly want me to believe, after all you've told your mother, that you would rather spend your life in another man's arms? Do you honestly want to wake up with his stubble scratching your chest? Have you considered all of the _unnatural_ acts that you two would perform on one another? Am I to actually believe that you would disgrace this family and even discontinue it because of the obscene things you want to do with another man's…"

Before Lucius could even continue, Draco looked pale and ill. He hadn't given the feelings as much thought as he should have yet expected Lucius to let him ruin their entire family on it.

"I thought as much."

Draco sighed and took a seat in front his father, leaning back into the tall cushioned back, hands gripping the armrests tightly. He looked up again, mercury eyes fixing on the boy's strained visage. There were no comforting words coming to his mind so he just sat there staring, no doubt making him more uncomfortable as he tried to think up words for the situation.

"I remember those pictures." Draco said offhandedly, eyes stubbornly averted to his right.

"Changing the subject won't make the issue disappear."

"She was pretty from what I remember. A lot like Potter actually, with that hair."

"The only explanation for your fascination is that you're jealous of him. Or you admire something about him."

"You didn't want mother to know," at this Draco finally looked his father in the eye, "I wonder why that is."

"Then I suppose she is like Potter then."

They sat in silence, eyeing one another across the table. Lucius held the upper hand by far, causing Draco to look away ever so often.

"You're barely 14 boy, hardly an age to change your sexual persuasion."

"Father just listen to me…"

"I'm not entertaining your foolishness any longer. If you were serious about this, you would have shown me that you are man enough to handle a decision of this magnitude and the consequences of your actions. As it is, you are barely hindering me from very important correspondence. Stop fooling yourself and stop wasting my time. Do not ever intend on wasting my time like that; now leave, and do not pursue this stupidity any further."

To say the boy looked deflated was an understatement. Lucius, ignoring his presence, went back to reading his letter, occasionally writing on the page with regained fervour.

"Did Abraxas do this to you to? With her?"

"He was far worse, but at least I did him the decency of being serious." he responded without looking up.

"If he hadn't objected…would you have…?"

Lucius stopped writing. What _would_ he have done if given that chance? He always assumed that he would have followed that urge and, if he had, at that very moment, be lying in their shared bed, his fingers tangled in her lustrous and lengthy dark hair.

"I don't have time to waste on frivolity neither do I have time to waste on suppositions. You know where the door is."

Draco took him up on the implied command and left, but not without taking a glance back at his father. Whereas Lucius had begun to fill out from his 4th year, Draco maintained his svelte figure – no doubt inherited from his mother - giving the impression of an athletic leanness. He shuddered to think what would've happened if his son had been serious as, judging by The Boy Who Lived's stature, he was the more effeminate of the two.

"Was she really like Harry?"

"More than you need to know."

Draco frowned in the doorway. It was obvious that he didn't approve of his father's answer from the darkening of his grey eyes. Not only did it put her above Harry's forbidden status, it also put Lucius' feelings about her locked away, a very dangerous thing considering the world they were living in.

"I do like him you know. He's…"

"So much different to you. Yes I know. I know you think you like him. But when the years go by, I'm sure you'll come to realise that I'm doing you a favour. You don't really like Potter, and you never will. You're only attracted to what you can't have; attracted to the qualities you see in him that will never exist in yourself. It's the thought of the forbidden that makes you want him. The sooner you realise this, the sooner you'll get over this and get on with your life."

Lucius sounded very knowledgeable, even to his own ears, and he could see that he was a man with a scar on his soul. Draco stood there frowning, eyes narrowed, forehead wrinkled with a livid but faint blush on his face. He clearly was not impressed with what Lucius had just told him; not listening to the wisdom of elders was always one of his weaknesses.

"I'm sure Abraxas thought the same thing."

His voice was quiet, blistering with held back anger. If Lucius had wanted to say anything, the door was slammed shut before he could say it. That was the day when a rift had begun to form between father and son. In the still and deathly silence of the room, Draco's words pierced his heart. He wondered vaguely if he was truly any better than his father, the man who doomed him to a shell of a life with a woman he had barely begun to appreciate and a son who now seemed to hate him. The letter slipped from his hand as the thought struck him with the force of its terribleness; all of his life so far came crashing back to him like the first waves of a tsunami. The memories had become blurred with the passage of time, but the more he struggled to remember, the more alive the feeling became. His heart was heavy with unrealised potential. If he had gotten the chance and he had failed it wouldn't have hurt so, but it was cut short long before it had even begun to grow. Abraxas would never understand that pain. Draco shouldn't have to.

Even as the boy's words rung in his ears, he tried to convince himself that he had done the right thing. That he had spoken from a position of knowledge; Draco was speaking from fantasies, thoughts forming in his head about what could happen in the future, not from what he knew to be truth. He was ready to ruin their family on something he had never experienced. Lucius on the other hand, spoke with the power of a man who had felt all and experienced what he needed to make a sound decision; he spoke from facts based in the present. He was ready to ruin their family on something he had and wanted to keep. Lucius sighed to himself; there was definitely no need to doubt his judgement. Yet as he stared up at the door, he couldn't help but wonder to himself if Abraxas had thought the same thing.

Lucius walked closer to his younger self while the room morphed out of shape, transfiguring itself into another memory. Again, wisps of conversation whizzed past him as the scene changed rapidly from memory to memory. Everything seemed to go downhill after his falling out with Draco. The Dark Lord had returned the third term of Draco's 4th year and was hell bent on not only getting revenge on The Boy Who Lived but on finally completing his original goals. When he felt the burn on his arm, his heart jolted with sorrow. In the few years of the man's absence, he had grown accustomed to the idea that a man of his stature should bow to no one, yet when the mark sprang back to life, the snake coiling cheerfully out of the maliciously grinning skull's mouth, he went obediently to where he was summoned. He went, not out of sincere devotion to the man, himself a half blood, but out of devotion to himself and his family. Even if things were strained at home, he still had an obligation to them; after all, his whole life's path was wrought by obligation and honour. That and their well-being was attached to his own, so they benefited mostly by association.

He had only suffered for one year before being thrown into Azkaban. Even then life was unbearable for him: not only did he have to answer to the man's every beck, call, whim and fancy as one of the inner circle, he had to put up with Bellatrix, recently sprung from Azkaban. That year was perhaps the worst of his life, the only positive being that he had begun to love Narcissa more keenly in the silent nights that he held her close to his body; she was the only constant in his life and though she wasn't the best, he still enjoyed it. While Bellatrix was an aggravating over zealot, Narcissa became more humble in her beliefs, more sceptical and more questioning. She was frustrating in her blindness and continually pestered Lucius about his faith in and loyalty to the Dark Lord. When he first began to formulate his plan for the boy's downfall, she was overflowing with praise and approval. Given his prior success rates, Lucius practically knew it was bound to fail. Unlike Bellatrix, he didn't focus on the plan, which was rather ingenious to be truthful, but on the fact that Potter had always managed to escape. The more Bellatrix went on about it, the more he found himself with the morbid hope that it would fail and bring about Voldemort's demise instead. Though he knew it was highly unlikely, the hope was his only protection against Bellatrix's nauseating presence in his house.

Around him, the memory solidified, giving him a slight sense of claustrophobia as it settled in around him. It was the night of the plan's execution, the air charged with Bellatrix's deranged excitement. He was more interested in getting the deed over with quickly, a sickly sense of anticipation and anxiety settling in his stomach. He was hoping that his predictions were right and that he didn't end up killing his only hope of true salvation. Draco had tried to ascertain what it was they were up to, but Lucius refused to divulge even the slightest of information. He wanted his son's hands as clean as possible when it came off, no matter how the situation ended up. All the iniquities were to be carried on his shoulders as patriarch and he would not allow his son's name to be stained prematurely. Before he left for the Ministry, he kissed Narcissa on the forehead, a gesture of affection that she wasn't used to.

She looked at him blankly for a moment, trying to put words to the feelings she was trying to stare into him. Like he had done so many years before with Delilah, he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, hoping it could communicate everything inside him. The slight upturn of her lips made his heart light for a minute. Somewhere in the background he could hear Bellatrix bustling about with barely constrained eagerness.

"Lucius! It's almost time!" she called with a cackle in her voice.

Narcissa frowned slightly as her sister interrupted what could have otherwise been a very romantic moment. Lucius gave her hand another reassuring squeeze and smiled lightly at her. In a time when he would have sworn that he would lose his sanity, she had been there for him, trying her best to neutralise Bellatrix's obnoxious presence and keep his stress levels at minimum. Had he given her the chance before, he knew that he would have begun to love her sooner, but even as that realisation hit him, in the darkest regions of his mind, thoughts of Delilah began to stir. Like his mother had told him so many years ago before her untimely death, one's first love is always the last to be forgotten. Even as he pulled Narcissa close to him, enveloping her in his arms, he saw that no matter whom he would come to love after her, she would always take precedence over everything else. Her fingers curled into his back, grasping handfuls of the black cloak. She sighed contentedly; if he had any say in the matter, he would've stayed there in her loving arms and forget all about Voldemort. As it was, he was nowhere near that fortunate.

Bellatrix came into the corridor where they were standing, her formerly sleek mane flying haphazardly from her head, her crazed eyes landing on them, all the contempt she could muster focussing on them. Whereas Narcissa had always been fair and aristocratic in appearance, Bellatrix had always been the one to live up to her maiden name. Her features had always been dark yet attractive, but now, she stood before them looking more like a crazed harlot; Andromeda had been the only one who had looked like an ounce of scruples had been dumped unceremoniously on her. She sneered at them, upper lip curled upwards with disdain and mockery as she observed their display of affection.

She scoffed.

"Deary me, Lucius. You never struck me as sentimental. And you, Narcissa, I always knew mum thought too highly of you, snivelling when Lucy's been called to do the Dark Lord's righteous bidding. If you manage to lose your life to the cause you should be proud! Not cowering in your house when the Dark Lord needs you most. Don't you dare disappoint him a second time. You're lucky he's merciful, now let's go!"

Her voice was shrill with condemnation and fervour. Begrudgingly, they separated, arms lingering on each other a couple seconds longer than was necessary. He remembered how she would later come to ask him if he thought that Bellatrix had ever loved Lestrange. Lucius sincerely doubted that; the amount the woman talked about Voldemort, with such eagerness and passion shining in her eyes, he believed that there was no room in her heart for any other human being. He proffered that her remaining affections were pinned on the torture of the seemingly unworthy. When she rushed him out of his house that night, he knew deep inside him that it would come to nought but as the night wore on, he didn't know how much he would lose in the space of a few hours.

As he rushed through the Department of Mysteries as fast as his aging body could carry him, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his only thoughts were on returning to the warmth of his bed and the love of his wife. But as the members of the Order descended upon them and the spells were fired more rapidly now, causing extensive destruction in the room, he could almost see his life unravelling before him. As he fired spell after spell, his short bursts of breath echoing in his ears as the multitude of shelves came crumbling down around him, it was like the world was beginning to slow down; for a moment he fancied himself in a dream.

Indeed, as he turned to watch Sirius fall, dead, into the veil and Potter's cries of anguish fill the room, he could have sworn that it was merely a nightmare he was having, that he would awake soon, sweat drenching his form as Narcissa tried to coax him back into sleep. He had no such luck. The sounds of destruction seemed to box him in, and he fired spells all about now; he needed to get out. As he fought with an Order member, trying to make his way out, he saw a flash of blue eyes, anger and sorrow burning in them as their owner rushed past shooting spells out in raw aggression. He did a double take and in the split second that he had paused, he had been captured. Bellatrix and Voldemort had gotten away but most of the others had been caught. And as he struggled for freedom, trying to get them to unhand him, all he could think of was Narcissa, sitting in the Manor alone, with no one but her deranged sister to keep her company.

Author's note: I honestly can't believe that people actually read to the bottom of these chapter/parts. They're so fricking long :S Imagine if I had posted it as a oneshot like I had originally intended to. Haha! Continuing onwards, if you feel the need to review I thank you in advance and hopefully I'll get the next instalment of the story up soon. Until then, enjoy yourself and take care :)


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